blankets on the beach

It's like a dusting of icing sugar but when it hits my tongue the sweetness isn't there and I'm starting to get cold in the fingers. They begin to fall off at an alarming rate and there's nothing left of me to talk about. I'm just a pile of washed up blood and bones on the side of the road, not even vultures would pick at.

For all the melodrama it's just a little cold outside, but you still have to fight your way through the snow storms to get to work or home. I wasn't too sure if I would cope with it all before I moved here, but with any adventure you just have to stick it out. I think the thing that keeps me going or rather the thing that keeps life as interesting as it is (for keep on going suggests that I'm hating every second of it all) is that if you can stand up tall enough and look on the horizon, you can start to see the future unfolding. It may surprise a few of you that for all the words up to know have been laced in nostalgia, laced in the sort of things that only romantics linger on for a life time. But with anything in life it's all split off into a hundred different flavours or shades of blue, red and yellow.

The snow outside in the Munich wash keeps me indoors as much as possible, save the silly walk I take in-between lunch and before I leave for home. I walk out into the shattering cold with only a polo shirt and a pair of jeans. I can't remember who quoted it but it goes along the lines of 'we do most of the best thinking while walking', I won't bore you with my inspiration, but the sweet tones of the cherubs as they fall from the sky with the snow bring me much happiness.

The future is tangible and you believe that anything is achievable and everything is within your grasp. Most people would lose that naivety, but I say embrace it.

Look to the horizon my beautiful eggs.

musik

• Imogen Heap

kino

• Wolfcreek
• When We Were Kings

verschiedenes

• the opera
• the job
• the book of haiku
• the responsibility
• the girl